


Alohomora

by Chocolatpen



Category: Haikyuu!!, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatpen/pseuds/Chocolatpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter AU, Post Second-Wizarding-War. Sawamura Daichi, The-Boy-Who-Lived, thought defending unlikely Death-Eater Sugawara Koushi at his trial would be the last he’d see of him. </p><p>He was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many hogwarts!au fics but none post-war!!
> 
> I'm not sure where this is going yet, and there won't be a fixed update schedule, but please do leave some comments and enjoy!
> 
> Edit: This story will contain material that may possibly be triggering, please exercise caution while reading. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or too upset, I will not be offended if you stop reading, or skip chapters.

“Life Inprisonment – Azkaban.”

 

They drag Hanamaki Takahiro away in chains, his piercing gaze reinforced with cold fury. He had been the ruthless chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, a senior who had graduated two years before, and then the manipulative death eater who’d killed houses of innocent muggles in their sleep and tortured half-blooded children to insanity.

 

Even now, behind the many wards separating the prisoners from the wizengamot playing judge and jury, Sawamura Daichi feels a shiver travel down his spine when those cold, calculating eyes lock onto his own.

 

While many of the more fanatic death-eaters had been killed in battle, the rest are being put on trial. The guilty ones are sent to Azkaban; the not-so guilty put on probation. Every sentence to life inprisonment reminds Daichi of the many old, noble pureblood families they leave ruined in their wake.

 

It’s horrible.

 

He’d never dared to think so far into the future, of what would happen once the Boy-Who-Lived kills Voldemort, finally puts an end to the war. Maybe, in the far reaches of his mind, he’d envisioned a world full of peace and prosperity. But his imagination is not a place for reality – and the reality of the situation is a community struggling to recover from two consecutive wars filled with blood and violence.

 

Daichi doesn’t know if tearing the Wizarding Culture to shreds after something so traumatic is worth putting these mass-murderers to jail.

 

Michimiya is in therapy – they don’t know if she’ll ever be the same, or if they’ll ever be able to erase the “mudblood” carved into her flesh. Ikejiri takes care of her at night, when the nightmares joustle them both awake, and sometimes she takes care of him too. No one says anything about the dark rings under his eyes when he shows up for auror training.

 

A flash of grey pulls Daichi from his thoughts – and he watches with renewed interest as the guards escort in a new prisoner. This prisoner isn’t struggling, or shouting, or screaming. His feet are light on the ground, his wrists chained together, and his head is bowed in defeat. The tell-tale mop of silky, grey hair falls to cover his eyes – the unique shade only ever present in one noble, pure-blood family.

 

“Sugawara Koushi.”

 

Daichi remembers first-year, the grey-haired boy greeting him in front of the great hall. If possible, he’d been as reluctant as Daichi had been to introduce himself. But back then, it had been the truth that Daichi had no idea of the Sugawaras’ influence and wealth, or their status as proud purebloods.

 

The two boys flanking Sugawara hadn’t been as kind – the pretty boy with the windswept hair had looked down at Daichi like he was scum, dragging Sugawara away by the collar, and the taller boy with the incredible bed-head had smiled at Daichi so nastily Ikejiri had to step in before a fight broke out.

 

“I will now recite your war crimes.”

 

Sugawara gives the briefest of nods, his chained hands resting between his legs and the softness of his features hardening for a split second.

 

“In your sixth year of schooling, you allowed death eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts and proceeded to spectate as they murdered your headmaster at that point in time – Ukai Ikkei. You placed more than three wizards under the _Imperius_ Curse – one of the three unforgivables – with the longest being a duration of one year. Furthermore, you attempted to murder one of your professors using tabooed dark magic and almost succeeded ending the lives of two of your schoolmates using cursed objects. It is also known that Tom Riddle and other known Azkaban escapees, such as Matsukawa Takahatsu, took up residence at Sugawara Manor for a period of more than two years. The prementioned Manor served as the headquarters of the death eater movement. As a resident of the Sugawara Manor, and its current owner, it is assumed that you were aware of the torture and capture of war heroes Michimiya Yui, Ikejiri Hayato and Sawamura Daichi, amongst other half-blooded or muggle-born witches and wizards.”

 

Daichi grips his armrest so hard his knuckles turn white.

 

He can still hear Michimiya’s screams – sharp and broken and shattered till this day; can still mistake the darkness behind his own eyelids as the dungeons below that infernal manor. He can still, clearly, feel the terrifying, utterly _paralyzing_ fear that – this is all over, eveything we’ve worked for is over, that Sugawara Koushi, in identifying them, has ended their lives in a singlehanded blow.

 

“Please display your dark mark.”

 

The unmistakable skull and snake, tattooed into the milky pale skin of Sugawara’s forearm, makes the fine hair on Daichi’s arms stand. A hushed murmur runs through the crowd. Sugawara’s fingers curl into fists.

 

No one stands to defend him.

 

No one wants to – the evidence splayed out on his right forearm is incriminating on its own, not to mention the rest of it. _Imperius_ for a year? Daichi is torn between acknowledging Sugawara’s power and feeling horrified for the person who lost a whole chunk of their life.

 

Daichi can understand the hatred the wizarding community has for Sugawara Koushi perfectly. He wants so badly to let the jury pass the sentence for a life of inprisonment in Azkaban for this boy – the boy who’d destroyed the only safe haven he’s had since his parents had been murdered as an infant, the boy who’d helped the death eaters send that last _Avada_ at the man who’d looked after him for years, the boy who had locked him in the dungeon under his house and allowed his deranged aunt to torture one of his best friends. Maybe, to some extent, even the boy who’d once been fourteen and done nothing but watch as his closest friends bullied “mudblood” children, calling them names and leaving them crying along the corridors.

 

But Daichi also understands Sugawara Koushi too well to just let him rot in a cell.

 

He’d felt it while hidden under the astronomy tower; watching the pureblooded boy, normally quietly confident, tremble with an _Avada_ never quite able to leave his lips. He’d felt it when the silver-haired boy bent down onto his knee to look him in the eye – his face swollen beyond (hopeful) recognition. And he’d felt it again, right as the solid foundations of Hogwarts came crashing down, when his eyes met grey in the midst of the fighting and a stream of green knocks a death eater to the ground before he can cast a spell at Daichi.

 

Somehow, for the second time in the span of an impossible situation, hardened brown meets soulful grey in the Ministry of Magic’s largest courtroom, and Daichi finds himself rising from his chair. Sugawara Koushi startles in his seat – and so does everyone else in the courtroom.

 

“If you do not mind, minister, I would like to stand in defence of Sugawara Koushi.”

 

Another murmur runs through the crowd, the attention now directed at Sawamura Daichi. The-Boy-Who-Lived, and the boy who ended it all.

 

“..I-I don’t see any problems with that, Sawamura-kun, although… there’s no reason why you should? He tortured your best friend, and kept you captive only to send you to your death.”

 

Daichi swallows, his adams’ apple bobbing as he purses his lips. Blinking, he redirects his gaze to the boy sitting chained in the centre of the courtroom. Sugawara is staring at him with wide eyes, wide eyes transparent with confusion.

 

Sugawara might never have been sorted into Gryffindor, but Daichi can hazard that he’d probably been one of the bravest during the war.

 

Having to barter for the safety of your family in the place of your father, to a madman of an unwanted house guest who enjoyed torture for tea? Sugawara would have been stupid not to have taken the mark, and selfish not to have attempted the impossible mission of killing his headmaster. Sugawara Koushi had no choice but to do the things he’d done to protect his family, and Daichi doesn’t think it should be considered a crime to want to survive.

 

“With all due respect, minister,” When Daichi finally answers, ripping his gaze away from the grey-haired pureblood and back to the weathered man on his podium, he is surprised at how confident he sounds. “It’s because I don’t think you should convict an innocent man.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho glad you guys like it so far!
> 
> Thanks for the support :) Enjoy <3

“Why’d you do it, man?”

 

Ikejiri is silent as he waits for Daichi’s answer, arms crossed over his chest. The smattering of freckles across his nosebridge stands out against his sickly pale skin; dark circles prominent below his eyes. Seated next to him, Michimiya stops cutting her omelette into little pieces and grips her knife a little harder.

 

Daichi tiredly runs a hand through his hair. “He didn’t deserve it, Hayato. Sugawara was unwilling to take the mark, you could see it for yourselves. He-”

 

“Look what he did to us!” Ikejiri interrupts, chair scraping against the floor when he stands abruptly; breakfast forgotten. “Sugawara Koushi is a _death eater_ , Daichi. I don’t know what kind of hero-complex you’ve gotten since the war ended, but he doesn’t deserve-”

 

“Is that really what you think?” Daichi’s tone is heavy, purposeful, and it gives Ikejiri pause. Making sure to meet both his friends’ gazes, Daichi plows on. “We would be dead if it weren’t for Sugawara. He didn’t identify us in the manor, even though he could recognize us. Even though he would be rewarded if he did.”

 

Michimiya flinches at the mention of the Sugawara Manor, and Daichi’s voice grows slightly softer in apology. “What would you have done, Hayato, Yui, had it been your family that was threatened?”

 

Ikejiri looks a little put out by the question, hands fidgeting on the table agitatedly. “That’s different, Daichi, you can’t compare-”

 

“You’re lying to yourself and you know it,” Daichi’s eyes are a little dead as he regards the two people he considers his best friends. There will always be discrimination in the world – the question is what form it takes. He just didn’t think Ikejiri and Michimiya were people so unwilling to change, even after what they’ve been through. “I’m leaving for Hogwarts, and I’ll be staying there from now until I finish my schooling.”

 

There’s nowhere else for Daichi to go, after all. He’s eighteen this year, which means that his aunt and uncle have no obligations to look after him anymore. Auror training is out of the question for now; he’s too tired of dark wizards. Any other possible place is riddled with lingering fear and terrible memories. It would hurt too much to go back.

 

Hogwarts is different – it always has been. Despite equally devastating losses ocurring there, it had also been Daichi’s home for the past seven years.

 

“You can stay here if you want to, Daichi!” Michimiya suggests, and Ikejiri nods, placing his hand over hers. “You’re always welcome, you’re our best friend!”

 

Daichi allows a small smile to spread across his lips.

 

He knows that he’ll always be able to count on Ikejiri and Michimiya, but he can’t help but feel left out. It had always been the three of them, a trio of sorts, since first year, but it had quickly become ‘them’ and ‘him’, ever since the war ended and they’d officially gotten together.

 

Besides, it’s not his place to interfere in a relationship between two of his closest friends. After all they’ve done for him, all they’ve done to help free the world from Voldemort’s terror, happiness is all Daichi wants them to feel.

 

The road to recovery is a tough one, but he’s sure that they’ll be fine with each other, side by side.

 

“I’m not going to be a third-wheel anymore, now that I’m not stuck with the two of you.” Daichi teases, leaning in to hug both Ikejiri and Michimiya. The latter seems like she may say something, but Ikejiri slings a comforting arm around her shoulder, chuckles shaking his frame.

 

“I’ll see you guys soon.” Daichi’s eyes turn soft, fond, and maybe a little sad, before he pulls out his wand – with a small flourish – and is gone from the small kitchenette.

 

Daichi stumbles slightly when he re-appears outside the tall, wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts. Long-distance apparation is never kind on him; Michimiya had always apparated them as a trio.

 

Charmed suitcase in hand, the boy-who-lived takes a deep breath before stepping foot inside the wards. There are no thestrals waiting with plush carriages, like he’s so used to, nor any tiny boats docked against the bank of the great lake, so he walks up to the castle in a purpose-filled stride.

 

Hogwarts itself remains in ruins – the courtyard missing certain cobblestones and blackened where hexes had bounced off the tiles.

 

Daichi remembers the battle clearly; how one of the giants swung its large club at the archway leading to the courtyard and left it in crumbled stones strewn along the floor, how much Ikejiri paled as the spiders flooded in behind them like a plague, how curses from the demented death eaters flew like fireworks accompanying the haunting green skull tattooed into the night sky.

 

He remembers Matsukawa Issei, a death eater who’d once attended Hogwarts _with_ Daichi, sprawled dead on the front steps from an _Avada_. And then later, even as the body lay lifeless on the ground, how Asahi – shy, timid Asahi – had snatched the sword of Gryffindor off the floor and cut the head of that infernal snake cleanly off its body. Bokuto screaming, smile wiped off his face and replaced with raw anger, when Akaashi had fallen to the floor from a well-aimed hex. Nishinoya had lain over there, next to a pile of shattered bricks, bleeding out onto the ground from a hex that had slashed his flesh open-

 

“You look like you’re thinking too much.”

 

Daichi blinks himself out of his unfortunately clear memories to focus on the man standing in front of him. The man’s blonde hair is pulled back from his face in a messy ponytail, and a cigarette smoked halfway to the filter is held between his teeth.

 

“Coach Ukai!” Daichi bows slightly in greeting. Ukai Keishin had been his quidditch coach for the past two years, ever since the headmaster had started occupying his time with the Order. Seeing his coach just reminds him of what he wants his reality to be, or how it had been, somewhat – just a normal, quidditch playing wizard whose hardest decision would be what courses to take for his O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts.

 

Being the fabled saviour of the wizarding world is too heavy a weight on any seventeen year old’s shoulders.

 

“It’s headmaster, now, Sawamura.” The ragged-looking man sighs, patting Daichi on the back with one hand and pulling on his joint for a slow exhale with the other.

 

Daichi immediately goes rigid.

 

Noticing this, Ukai stubs out his cigarette and rubs his nose bridge wearily. “Gryffindor Tower was destroyed in the fight; not that you can even get up there, since all the main staircases are unstable or covered in rubble. You can go settle down in the Slytherin dorms for the time being, Sawamura. There’s already a student there, and he helps with the rebuilding every day, so at least try to get along with him, alright?”

 

Daichi just nods, stiffly, because that’s right, it’s impossible for headmaster Ukai – the previous one – to rise from the dead just to go back to being his headmaster. It’s a reminder of his failures to save the people he cares about, another rip to his already torn heart.

 

_Goddamnit_.

 

Ukai lays a heavy hand on his shoulder when he draws back, but Daichi only spares him a polite smile before he quietly brushes past the new headmaster of Hogwarts and jogs up the front steps.

 

“The password is jade!” Ukai shouts after Daichi. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Sawamura. You’ve done more than enough, and the Wizarding World is thankful.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this story will have pretty dark themes that may be triggering, so please be careful!! Also, it's the start of exam week tomorrow but I'm writing this instead cries
> 
> Thanks for the support :) Enjoy <3

Sugawara Koushi doesn’t know how his tiny welcoming party could have ended up with a wand jabbed at his jugular – in his own common room, no less.

 

Sighing, the grey-haired boy levitates the cupcake he’d persuaded from the elves and raises his arms in surrender. It’s not like he expected his new roommate to be as accepting towards him as if he were any other person, considering the dark skull tattooed into his forearm, but fate must really have it out for him, because his new roommate isn’t just any old person.

 

It’s that Gryffindor. The boy-who-lived.

 

“Sawamura Daichi,” Koushi’s voice is smooth and collected – his seventeen years of pureblood training coming in handy. Raising a grey brow, the Slytherin tries his best to talk over the wand pressed up against his windpipe. “I didn’t expect it to be you, of all people. Finished your victory tour?”

 

Daichi relaxes once the taunt manages to pierce through his thick skull, and he clears his throat awkwardly, sliding his wand back into his back pocket. “Shut up, Sugawara.”

 

Koushi crosses his arms over his chest and watches as the other boy surveys the Slytherin common room with tired eyes, taking in the green drapery, plush carpets and cool tones without so much as a flicker of curiosity. Koushi sure as hell hasn’t been up to the Gryffindor dorms before, but he imagines that it’s much different from the soft shadows of his own.

 

“Too much green for your taste?” Koushi probes, shifting to sit on the armrest of one of the plush couches. The cupcake moves with him, bobbing slightly in the air at the silver haired boy’s eye level.

 

Instead of answering, Daichi merely sighs and rubs the wrinkled space between his eyebrows. “What are you doing here, Sugawara? Just leave me alone, already.”

 

Koushi is honest to god stunned for a moment, replaying the golden boy’s words in his head once before it finally sinks in – anger blossoming in the pit of his stomach and spreading through his body like wildfire.

 

“What am I doing here? What am _I_ doing here?!” Koushi’s voice shakes as it climbs, and Daichi startles, almost taking a step back. “This is _my_ common room, Sawamura, and, unlike you, I have nowhere else to go. If you’ll remember, the ministry confiscated my family home.”

 

Koushi can see the regret forming in Daichi’s eyes as he remembers – how Koushi’s mother had been been admitted to care in St. Mungo’s for ‘unhinged’ behaviour. How Koushi’s father had been placed under house arrest in one of the Sugawara family’s vacation homes, even though the family’s actions had played a crucial role in the defeat of Voldemort. How Koushi’s older brother had been sentenced to life in Azkaban for committing heinous crimes during his time as Hogwarts’ Dark Arts teacher the previous year.

 

“That’s not what I-”

 

“And if you meant, why am I here, talking to you – the _mighty_ saviour of the entire _fucking_ Wizarding World,” Koushi continues, bulldozing over Daichi ferociously, “then it’s because I bloody well didn’t know it was you, okay?”

 

There is absolute silence as Daichi gapes like a fish out of water, and he steps forward like he’s about to reach out to Koushi, but the Slytherin stands from his perch before Daichi can do anything; tears of pent-up frustration and anger and helplessness swimming in his vision.

 

“You can ask to move to the Hufflepuff dorms if you want. I doubt anyone can refuse you now,” Koushi spits, flinging the cupcake at the other boy. Daichi catches it in the nick of time, before it can smash into his face, and stares at it weirdly. Koushi scoffs, shoves his hands in his pockets, and slinks out of the Slytherin common room. “I’ll leave you bloody well alone, golden boy.”

 

Stalking through the numerous maze-like passageways under Hogwarts with nothing but his own echoing footsteps as company, Koushi slowly succumbs to his grief. He wipes at his face aggressively, refusing to let the sobs take over his lithe frame.

 

Not weak. _Not weak_.

 

With a smothered snarl, the grey-haired Slytherin throws an unrestrained punch at the wall and immediately cringes, uncurling and curling his fist as he watches the blood trickle out from his split knuckles.

 

Now, Koushi is aware of the fact that he’s not a stupid brute, and that less things are solved by hitting things than… any other way, actually. But he’s long since given up on the rational part of his brain, at least when his thoughts have anything at all to do with Voldemort.

 

No matter how much he hates Daichi for behaving the way he does, Koushi knows that he deserves it all.

 

He’s nothing but Death Eater scum, after all.

 

Koushi can deal with any shit Sawamura Daichi can swing his way, can deal with any anger and blame and hate because that’s already what he feels towards himself and it’s something he expects from everyone else. He just doesn’t want any pity, and the sympathy forming in Daichi’s eyes just pisses Koushi off like no other. He might have made some pretty bad choices, but he’s still Sugawara Koushi. He won’t show any weakness.

 

Especially not to outsiders.

 

Especially not to damned stubborn, self-righteous pricks like Sawamura Daichi.

 

Turning around and slipping onto the floor, the grey haired pureblood curls into a ball; pulling his knees into his chest. He reaches into his back pocket – the other one, not the one with his wand in it, and pulls out a small ceremonial dagger with an engraved hilt.

 

It’s always the blackened skin at his forearm, as though it were possible to cut out the entire meaning of his Mark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because I seem to end up writing way more when I'm incredibly busy.
> 
> Thanks for the support :) Enjoy <3

Daichi is confused.

 

He’s known Sugawara Koushi for seven years now, and in that time, Daichi has never actually seen Sugawara so… _emotional_. Although they, admittedly, had never been close (quite the opposite, actually), the second son of the Sugawara Family is known to be of a rather quiet nature; possessing the controlled, well-practiced grace of a prominent aristocratic family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight – at least, while he isn’t with his friends.

 

Even during their little spats in their earlier Hogwarts Years, Sugawara had never blown a fuse; merely retorting dryly before walking away. It had always been Kuroo Tetsurou who dished out taunts that just so happened to scrape against insecurities and Futakuchi Kenji who managed to send tiny, untraceable hexes without so much as alerting a soul. Had always been Oikawa Toru – with a presence so big it filled the room and a mouth as loud as it had been smart – who sent people running in the other direction.

 

Sugawara Koushi’s friends might have all been prejudiced and eager to show it, but he’d always been regal and composed. He’d only ever spoken sparsely, in those situations, and Ikejiri had hated him for it.

 

“What does he think he is, a prince, or something?” Daichi remembers the red head ranting after an encounter in their fifth year. “He probably thinks we’re not even worth talking to! What an arrogant git.”

 

And then their debatably carefree school lives had been violently jerked out of reach, interrupted by the death of their headmaster, the rising throngs of Death Eaters in their midst and finally, the takeover of the ministry so skillfully executed they hadn’t managed to predict it – and Sugawara Koushi had solidifed himself as someone firmly on the other side of the war.

 

Until it didn’t seem that way anymore.

 

Sugawara’s eyes, so soulful and _tired_ , searching his own as he lay tied and swollen on the floor of Sugawara Manor; hands light as they fluttered over Daichi’s bruised skin. The way Sugawara braced himself in front of his parents as Daichi walked into the forest clearing and offered himself to Voldemort – even, to an extent, how Sugawara Katsumi bent down to check his pulse and whispered in his ear, “Please save my son, Sawamura Daichi, please save Koushi.”

 

All through their many years at school, during the war, and even after it, Daichi hasn’t seen Sugawara react with anything more than mild annoyance – at least until now.

 

Daichi honestly hadn’t expected Sugawara to acknowledge his existence, let alone attempt to throw him a welcome party. Given, Sugawara hadn’t even known it’d be _him_ , out of all the other possibilities, but still.

 

Daichi chose to move to Hogwarts because he wanted to be alone, wanted to take his time recovering from things most people couldn’t even begin to understand. And he could do it away from the random strangers pointing him out on the street and flocking to him for autographs, away from the nosy journalists and photographers just waiting for him to step even a little out of line, away from his hovering friends and their overwhelming concern.

 

It had just felt like his plans were all caving in on themselves, once he realised who, exactly, he’d have to share a room with for the next few months, and he couldn’t help but be nasty about it.

 

Definitely Gryffindor brashness.

 

Daichi regrets it, he really does. It’s already late at night, but Sugawara has yet to return. He hadn’t even been at dinner, and, regardless of himself, Daichi realises that he’s actually _worried_.

 

Tossing over in bed again, the dark-haired boy wills the endless thoughts out of his head. He’ll apologise when Sugawara turns up again, he swears it. Right now, though, he really needs to get to sleep if he wants to wake up on time tomorrow-

 

The door swings open with a light creak, and Daichi shoots straight out of bed; a hand already on his wand.

 

“ _Lumos_.”

 

Sugawara Koushi stares back at him, halfway through closing the door behind him. His hair is almost silver from the light emerging from the tip of Daichi’s wand, and he’s squinting slightly against the sudden brightness.

 

“What are you doing? It’s half past two in the morning!” Daichi reprimands, the words flying out of his mouth before he can stop them. The grip on his wand is tight, his heart pounding in his chest. A side effect of war. “You disappeared all of today – did you even eat anything? Where were you? It’s not safe to wander around Hogwarts by yourself, especially when all the wards are down and-”

 

“What are you, my mother?” Sugawara asks, eyebrows raised. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, feet almost silent on the ground. Honestly, even if Daichi had been awake, he might not have noticed Sugawara entering had it not been for the door squeaking. “You do realise that this is my room as well, don’t you? I guess you’ll just have to deal with sleeping next to a Death Eater for tonight.”

 

Daichi nibbles on his lip as he lowers his wand, eyes following Sugawara’s almost ghostly form as it traverses to the bed next to Daichi’s. “I’m not moving, Sugawara. I didn’t mean it to sound like it did this afternoon.”

 

Sugawara pauses while rumaging through his bag, and Daichi can see his fists clench. “I don’t want your pity.”

 

“It’s not.” Daichi says, earnestly. He frowns when Sugawara doesn’t look at him. “Look, the war is over. It’s time to put aside any past differences we might have and work together to rebuild Hogwarts. I’m going to be your only roommate for the rest of summer, after all. We might as well try to get al- tolerate each other.”

 

“Oh,” Sugawara’s voice is smaller than Daichi recalls. He still hasn’t turned around, but he’s started looking through his bag again. “This is for your public image, right? Just to get by until you can go back up to Gryffindor Tower?”

 

The words aren’t bitter, or designed to cut. Sugawara honestly just seems curious about Daichi’s intentions.

 

 _No_. “Y-Yeah, something like that.” Daichi mutters, scratching the back of his head. _How_ did things end up here? With a little inhale, the dark-haired boy extends his hand in Sugawara’s direction. “Truce?”

 

The second son of the Sugawara Family finally turns around at that, staring at Daichi’s hand a little contemplatively. Finally, just as Daichi’s biceps are starting to burn from holding out his hand for so long, Sugawara purses his lips, nods to himself and shakes Daichi’s hand firmly. “Truce.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday is exactly one week from now!
> 
> Thanks for the support :) Enjoy <3

Breakfast is sufficiently awkward.

 

The elves had taken it upon themselves to set up a little dining area in a section of the kitchen – which had mostly been untouched by the battle, since it’s only accessible by secret entrance. The blood had been washed away, any remaining used medical supplies thrown away, and then it had been back to business feeding the hungry masses apparating in daily to fix the broken structures of Britian’s Wizarding School.

 

Irihata sensei and Mizoguchi sensei are the only other patrons at the small breakfast feast, and both Sugawara and Daichi greet them politely – Sugawara more awkwardly than Daichi had thought possible, given his rigorous pureblood social upbringing – before settling down at another table.

 

“You aren’t eating much,” Daichi notes the sparse bits of food on the grey-haired boy’s plate. It’s mostly just avocado and toast. Daichi’s own plate is filled to the brim with fresh omelette, waffles and bacon.

 

“I.. can’t stomach much in the morning,” Sugawara mumbles, still looking a little taken aback at Daichi’s seating choice, before settling back in his seat and directing his gaze to anywhere but in front of him.

 

The rest of breakfast is spent in silence, only interrupted by Daichi, who quietly excuses himself to get another heaping plate. The food at Hogwarts has always been good, and moreso, after a year of Ikejiri’s badly charred fish and berries Michimiya insisted weren’t poisonous but tasted like it.

 

“Oh, it’s good to see you, Sawamura-kun!” Takeda sensei gushes when he enters the room. As usual, there is a certain whirlwind of activity following his every move, and Daichi can see Sugawara tensing from the sudden entrance; hand flying to his back pocket instinctively. He relaxes a moment later. The Herbology teacher claps his hands together in delight when he sees Sugawara, ushering them both out of their seats and into the hallway. “I’m glad the two of you are getting along fine, Sugawara-kun has been such wonderful help the past week!”

 

Sugawara flushes slightly under the praise but otherwise remains his normal, unflappable self, and Daichi bites back a little snicker. Given their rather unfriendly history, Daichi has never had the need to compliment Sugawara – now that he knows it’s his weak spot, though…

 

“What do you need us to do today, Professor?” Daichi asks, having gulped down the last of his orange juice. He’s grinning widely – Takeda sensei has always been one of his favourite teachers, even though he’s never been good at herbology. It helps that he’s the head of Gryffindor.

 

“We’re setting this week aside to build the new quidditch pitch,” Takeda sensei winks a little conspiratorically, and Daichi sees Sugawara perking up from the corner of his eye. That’s right, Sugawara had been one of the chasers on the Slytherin team. Takeda sensei leads them down another, larger corridor and opens the large, oak doors leading into the great hall with a small flourish of his wand. “You two will be fixing the great hall – try to piece together anything that’s broken, and keep the things that were hit by dark magic in that large box in the corner.”

 

Daichi swallows when he sees the disaster zone that had been one of his first, most magical moments in Hogwarts, and sees blood everywhere.

 

Certainly, they’ve done a wonderful job in cleaning the war out of the place, and the blood isn’t exactly _there_. It’s just… they’d put a lot of people – a lot of friends, _family_ – to sleep for the last time here. It’s not something you easily forget.

 

“I’m sorry,” Takeda sensei mutters, placing a hand on Daichi’s shoulder. Sugawara looks on with outward disinterest and a spark of something like curiosity. “I know it’s… it has bad memories for you, and I’d understand if you’d rather not. I’ll get you something else to do, if you want.”

 

“I’ll be fine.” Daichi shakes his head and offers up a smile as an apology for getting his teacher worried. _It’s better to face old ghosts sooner than later._ He glances at Sugawara, who’s surveying the room with steady, grey eyes, and calls out, “C’mon, those plates won’t fix themselves!”

 

The long, wooden house tables have all been pushed to the sides to make space in the middle – for the stretchers, Daichi thinks. There had been so many people just _lying_ there; some still in death, others screaming and bleeding and in pain. There’s broken glass, dust and debris everywhere, and some mismatched blankets propped up in the corner. The tiles on the floor are chipped in some places, and there’s dried blood-

 

“Hey Sugawara, say something,” Daichi says, and it comes out a little weird.

 

Sugawara turns around from where he’s running his fingers over the scorch marks on one of the tables, eyebrows knitted together, but he stops in his tracks when he sees Daichi’s expression. Pursing his lips, Sugawara looks away again. “So what happened to those friends of yours? That giant Gryffindor? The one who chopped N-Nagini’s head off?”

 

“I’ll let you know, that was w-wholly unexpected of him,” Daichi attempts, swaying slightly on his feet from how much the room is spinning. He thinks of the large, almost metallic green snake that had always been slithering around Voldemort, jumping out of dead old ladies’ bodies and wrapping around- “He’s got some g-greenhouse or other in the-”

 

And then suddenly, there are arms around him, steadying him, and Daichi blinks brown eyes at grey.

 

“Bloody Gryffindors. Just sit down, already,” Sugawara mutters, pointedly looking away from Daichi before he shoves him down onto one of the long benches. “You look like you’re about to topple over.”

 

Daichi watches as the grey haired pureblood waves his wand, muttering something under his breath, and an army of mops hop into the great hall in a single file. He tries not to think about how warm Sugawara had been, how nice he’d smelled, and instead shifts his attention to the Slytherin’s spellwork in unconcealed awe. Hogwarts had never actually taught many practical spells for everyday use, since it’s assumed you have family for that.

 

“I’m sorry,” Daichi interrupts, and the mops halt for a second before continuing their trudge into the great hall. “F-for being an asshole, yesterday. I really didn’t mean it, it was just a bad day, and, well, I know that’s not an excuse but-”

 

“You hate me,” Sugawara says, or rather, states. The mops spread out over the length of the great hall and prop themselves against the wall. Another spell – this time wandless – and Sugawara has the blankets dusting themselves out and the brooms at the other side of the room trekking across the floor and leaving it clean in their wake. “We’ve been butting heads since we were _eleven_. Nobody you know likes me, and nobody I know likes you. You’re the Chosen One. I’m a Death Eater. Remember that, Sawamura.”

 

There’s a small silence where Daichi contemplates an answer.

 

“I’ve decided it shouldn’t matter anymore,” When Daichi replies, his voice is even and certain. “The war is over – things change. Things _have_ to change, or else the fighting, the lives lost, they’d all be for nothing.”

 

There’s another silence, this one longer than the previous.

 

“I’m sorry, too,” Sugawara finally mutters, staring at the far wall. “Mentioning the snake was distasteful of me.”

 

And somehow, Daichi feels like he’s just passed a test.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo it's my birthday!
> 
> Thanks for the support :) Enjoy <3

Koushi doesn’t understand.

 

He sneaks a glance at the corner of the great hall, where Sawamura is seated, cross legged, on one of the tables and magically sorting through piles of broken plates. The golden boy blanches slightly at something only he can see, and Koushi turns away again to focus on his own task.

 

Koushi hadn’t expected Sawamura to apologise.

 

Sawamura Daichi is proud and unrelenting, and Koushi is well aware that he can nurture a grudge like no other, especially if it’s for the sake of his friends, and, well… Koushi has _lost count_ of how many times he’s called Michimiya a Mudblood, insulted Ikejiri about his disgraced family, prodded Sawamura himself into an explosive anger. Not to mention how he cursed and helped to kill the people Sawamura held dear.

 

Sawamura should be fuming, should be demanding a change in dorm rooms. He should be condemning Koushi for everything he’s done, not sitting by his side and sorting through broken plates like it’s _normal_.

 

But then again, Sawamura does seem kind of _unhinged_ ; as though a part of him had been destroyed by the war. It’s not surprising, given how Koushi feels that way as well, how he cuts into the flesh of his wrist and refuses to heal it magically – It’s because they’re exhausted; and Koushi doesn’t just mean the bags under Sawamura’s eyes. Koushi is tired of all the running, and the anger and the fear, and he just doesn’t have the energy to keep up this fight with Sawamura anymore. So, maybe, it’s why Sawamura isn’t _crucio_ -ing him into insanity as revenge for what Koushi’s done to ruin his life.

 

Or maybe Sawamura is planning to do it, just after he’s gained Koushi’s trust, so he’ll be able to deal out as much hurt as he can. He might even go to the Prophet and claim he’d been under the _imperious_ curse all this time; sentencing Koushi to life inprisonment. It would be very Slytherin of him – seeing as he’s already extended the olive branch for his public image. But then again, if that’s his plan, why had Sawamura testified for him in the first place?

 

Huffing lowly in frustration, Koushi blows his fringe out of his eyes before hopping back to take a seat on one of the long tables. _What does he want?_ Koushi doesn’t even want to think about it anymore. Sawamura is confusing, and that sentiment in itself is shocking, because Koushi never thought he’d ever admit to being confused by a _Gryffindor_.

 

Honestly, at this point in time, Koushi just wants to block out the entire world, curl in one corner and be left to die. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness, least of all Sawamura Daichi’s.

 

He just wants to be _alone_.

 

Grumbling quietly under his breath again, Koushi waves his wand in the direction of the dilligently sweeping brooms. He watches them fly to the corner and stack themselves up against the wall in a neat row before he turns his attention to the mops. With another elegant twirl of his wand, the Slytherin begins commandeering the small army of mops and buckets; soaping up the floor of the great hall as though the sins and the death it’s seen can be erased by ratty school cleaning supplies.

 

“That’s amazing.”

 

Sawamura’s voice pipes up from further down the long table, and Koushi eyes the prone form in his peripheral, but doesn’t say anything in return.

 

“I mean it,” Sawamura continues, as though he hadn’t paused in the hopes of a reply. “What kind of spell is that? I’ve never seen anything like it, and you did most of it without incantation. I’m pretty sure even Michimiya wouldn’t know about it.”

 

Koushi snorts lightly, shooting a disbelieving look at the other boy. “Michimiya Yui? I’m not surprised, given her blo- background.”

 

The Gryffindor’s expression turns sour in the blink of an eye, and Koushi finds himself backing down so that he doesn’t upset Sawamura more than he already has. _Why should I care? Why do I?_

 

“Oh, don’t start,” Koushi sighs, returning his gaze to the wand gripped between his fingers. Sawamura stole it from him, once, and he remembers how uncomfortable it’d been. “It’s the truth that Mud-Muggleborn children and Pureblood children are brought up differently. We’re exposed to magic since young, and regard it as an integral part of our lives. We _appreciate_ it – unlike Muggleborns.”

 

“That’s not- Muggleborn children think magic is the best thing that’s happened to them! You can’t really believe that they don’t!” Sawamura has stopped sorting through the plates entirely, his hands clenched around one with a jaggard crack running through to the middle. It’s stained black, with dark magic.

 

“Oh really?” Koushi lifts an eyebrow in question. He concentrates for a moment, recites the incantation in his head and waves his hand. The crack repairs itself; porcelain knitting together as though it were human flesh under the influence of a healing spell. “Once the novelty wears off – oh, how _wonderful_ it is that I can levitate a feather and transfigure it into a quill – they’ll go back to their muggle world, where they belong, as though the wonder of magic is just something that’s.. a passing phase. I resent that.”

 

Sawamura is still gaping at the plate in his hands, turning it around in his hands in wonder. Takeda sensei _had_ specifically told them that the plates broken by dark magic wouldn’t be able to be fixed. “How-?”

 

“You’re doing it again,” Koushi just sighs, watching soap bubbles float up towards the enchanted ceiling. At Sawamura’s pointed gaze – Koushi can feel it – the Slytherin runs a hand through his hair. “Forgetting who I am.”

 

Sawamura’s frown deepens. “That doesn’t-”

 

“It’s not a secret that my family housed the Dark Lord,” Koushi shrugs, acting as though it doesn’t matter. It does. “My mother… had to clean up after any little spats between Death Eaters. They’d leave our chandeliers, plates, vases in little pieces tainted black. Of course, the elves didn’t know much about how to fix them, so I learnt all I could from my mother to help. Your… friend, Michimiya. She wouldn’t know any of these spells for this very reason. I doubt she wants to.”

 

Sawamura’s rigid back slumps slightly under the weight of the answer he wanted, but probably doesn’t deserve. Koushi squashes any feelings of guilt and pinches at the scarred skin above his dark mark.

 

“How… How is she?” Sawamura asks, quite unexpectedly. Koushi wouldn’t have thought he’d been one to care about the family of someone he should hate.

 

“She’ll survive,” Koushi shrugs, thinking of all the letters he’s gotten from St. Mungos, and how he refuses to reply to any of them. He knows that his mother is safe, and she still writes to both him and his father. Koushi just can’t help but remember all the times he’d been useless, unable to help his mother or his father. Unable to save them from his brother. There’s a new cut in place with each new owl. “After the Dark Lord, I don’t think a hospital is too bad. The last I heard, she’d been appalled they didn’t have her favourite tea.”

 

Sawamura nods again, looking away as he does. He’s biting his lip, and- is the golden boy is actually regretting bringing up a heavy topic? He’d never seemed to care before, always bringing up the Dark Lord, _by his name,_ so indiscriminately. Even if it made the other students squirm uncomfortably in their seats, or had teachers stifling the chill running down their spines.

 

“Do you want to go flying?”

 

The words come out in a rush, but Koushi manages to decipher them anyway.

 

“What?” Koushi doesn’t splutter – it’d be letting his parents down a whole other way.

 

“Flying,” Sawamura repeats, slowly, as though he were talking to a child. Then, he swallows and straightens. “It’ll help keep your mind of things. It helps me, and I thought, you know...”

 

Koushi’s expression turns incredulous, and he pulls his gaze back at his army of mops; bubbles darkening with grime. His forearm itches.

 

“Okay,” Koushi says, and he can feel the surprise rolling off Sawamura without looking at him. “Okay.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, this was supposed to be my break from angst. somehow, it turned out even worse HAHAHA gdi
> 
> Thanks for the support! Enjoy <3

It’s dark when they’re finally done for the day, and both of them reach under their beds for their brooms before trudging down to the pitch. It’s almost odd, how alike they are, while still being as opposite as they come.

 

“Wow.” Daichi exhales as he looks up at the quidditch pitch. Takeda sensei said it was still under construction, but the new structure already looks much bigger (and considerably more fire proof, after what happened to the old one) than it had been before.

 

“Doesn’t take much to impress you, huh,” Sugawara comments, although his face is tilted upwards as well. Daichi turns, making to retort, but stops short when he sees the moonbeams falling softly on Sugawara’s features. His hair is startlingly close to silver in the delicate light, eyes a pure, translucent grey and- _bloody hell, is he checking out Sugawara Koushi_? It doesn’t even matter how pretty he looks under all that glittering moonlight, thinking about him that way isn’t going to help anything. In fact, Daichi is almost a hundred percent certain that it’s only going to make things worse.

 

Besides, they’ve hated each other for seven years – even been on opposite sides of a war. While they hadn’t butted heads as much as Daichi and Kuroo had, and Sugawara always preferred staying out of the fights his friends picked, it doesn’t mean that they’re both just going to grow the sudden urge to snog under the moonlight.

 

It’s just… Daichi has always thought Sugawara to be attractive. A distant, stuck-up, blood purist arsehole, yes. But always somewhat _pretty_.

 

There’s a sudden whoosh of air against his exposed skin, and Daichi realises that, while he’d been thinking rather infuriating thoughts, the subject of said infuriating thoughts had gotten the headstart into the air.

 

“Aren’t you coming?” Sugawara smirks, summer winds blowing silvery strands away from his heart shaped face. He’s circling lazily in the air above Daichi’s head. “If I remember correctly, this was _your_ idea.”

 

Daichi rolls his eyes at the grey haired boy, ignoring the way his heart responds to the handsome quirk of Sugawara’s lips. “Git.”

 

Swinging a leg over his broom in a motion fluid from years of flying, Daichi takes off into the night sky with one strong push against the ground. Flying has always been something like a safe haven to him, and the effects of finally being able to soar freely through the sky are almost instantaneous; his worries and troubled throughts rushing past him like the cool summer breeze.

 

Sugawara catches up to him easily, a small smile settling on his features as he matches pace with Daichi. They weave around each other instinctively, _easily_ , almost like a well-oiled machine.

 

It’s the first genuine smile Daichi has seen on Sugawara since they’d met the day before, and definitely a nice change from his guarded expressions, or even the pained ones when he lets them through his perfectly chiseled outer shell. Daichi doesn’t know if Sugawara is aware that he’s allowing himself to relax, but he decides that he likes watching Sugawara openly happy, for once. It’s a much different experience from being on the receiving end of childish contempt.

 

“Race you to the whomping willow and back?” Daichi offers, cutting through the otherwise calm silence. Belatedly, he realises that the tightness in his cheeks is the result of the broad smile making itself home on his features.

 

“You’re on,” Sugawara’s expression shifts, and his eyes gain a competitive glint. The tell-tale rush of air is the only thing that alerts Daichi of Sugawara’s false start, and the boy-who-lived can’t do anything but follow with an equally breakneck speed.

 

Sugawara is by no means an untalented player. In fact, most of the games between Gryffindor and Slytherin had only been won through the point boost from Daichi catching the snitch. Between Sugawara and Oikawa, the Slytherin team had tactics perfected to an art form.

 

The grey-haired Slytherin is lithe and flexible on his broom, one of the fastest chasers in their year – even though most of his techniques seem more textbook than anything borne of natural talent.

 

Daichi growls a little under his breath when Sugawara flies past him, already on the stretch back from looping around the Whomping Willow. Dodging some of the longer branches with a few quick twists, Daichi shakes off the illusion of wayward bludgers and a roaring crowd before continuing the chase.

 

Unfortunately, due to that unfair headstart and a better broom, Sugawara’s fingers brush against the half-constructed wall of the new Quidditch Pitch before Daichi manages to catch up to him.

 

Daichi huffs lowly, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the pitch. He might be stubborn as a mule when he wants to be, but a win is a win, and Sugawara passed the finish line before he did; although not entirely fairly. Small peals of laughter reach Daichi’s ears, and he looks up to see Sugawara spiraling high into the air in loose, gentle circles – a carefree nature Daichi has never had the privilege to observe before.

 

It’s nice. Peaceful. Almost like the moment when the rain slows into a drizzle and the clouds disperse into clear sky.

 

Sugawara has stopped climbing, instead settling on hovering in the air. He’s so high up that his shadow falls over a large portion of the field, engulfing Daichi in its entirety. Everything is silent, and Daichi is speechless as he watches the summer wind tousle Sugawara’s hair; silver strands shining under moonlight.

 

Everything is serene and still, and it’s at that moment that Sugawara _lets go_.

 

Daichi reacts before he can comprehend it, rushing forward and up at his top speed with his heart beating hard and fast in his chest; desperation and adrenaline mixing together in a mind numbing cocktail.

 

He scoops Sugawara’s body right out of the air, losing a breath from the speed in which their bodies collide. Sugawara immediately goes stiff, and he struggles violently, shakes them both too vigorously for what is safe at more than a hundred metres up in the air, so Daichi tightens the arm around Sugawara’s torso and flies them back down to the ground.

 

“Get off me!” Sugawara snaps, managing to break free of Daichi’s grip while they’re still hovering slightly above the ground. He jumps off Daichi’s broom and stumbles slightly, but rights himself and spins around with an expression of fury painted across his features. “What do you think you’re doing?! That was-!”

 

“ _I_ should be asking you that question,” Daichi interrupts, rage bubbling at the pit of his stomach. He dismounts, and, broom in hand, walks right up to the grey-haired Slytherin. “What the _fuck_ do you think you were doing? Just letting go of your broom like that, so high in the air? You would have died if I hadn’t saved you!”

 

Sugawara sticks a hand out, and his broom comes flying right into his palm. There’s an expression of cold steel hardening his otherwise soft features. “It makes sense for the _golden boy_ to think that no one can survive without his help. Well, guess what? I don’t need it. I don’t need _you_! I’ve done that trick more times in the past few years than I can count, and I would’ve caught myself before anything could happen.”

 

Daichi sucks in a deep breath. It feels like ice cold water rushing down his heated skin. “Well, you shouldn’t have just done that without saying anything! What else could it have looked like?”

 

“Why won’t you just mind your own business?” Sugawara spits, turning around and storming up the path leading back to the castle. The night is so dark it’s almost pitch-black, and Daichi catches him when he slips on uneven ground. The grey-haired boy shrugs off Daichi’s hand and continues climbing the steps. “Why won’t you just leave me alone!”

 

“I thought you were going to die!” Daichi exclaims, throwing his arms in the air exasperatedly. He stops in his tracks, and something in the way he’s shouting makes Sugawara pause as well. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m not trying to be brave, and I’m not hoping for leverage against you. I just didn’t want you to.. to fall to your death. Is that so hard to believe?”

 

Sugawara turns around, and Daichi comes face to face with stormy grey eyes. “It is.”

 

“Merlin, Sugawara, I just thought you were in trouble,” Daichi says, softly. Almost pleadingly. “Didn’t your friends help you when you needed them?”

 

“No,” Sugawara sighs, as though he were merely stating a fact. There’s a strange expression on his face. He spins back around before Daichi can identify what it is, continuing his trudge up the dirt path; now more weary than angry. “I don’t believe in _friends_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted a oneshot 'Cherry Coke', please do go check it out if you're interested :))
> 
> Thanks for the support!! Enjoy <3

Sugawara Koushi had friends once.

 

Or at least, he believed he had friends.

 

His father used to say that there is no loyalty without fear or reverence, and his mother preached blood before bond. Friends, in that respect, are simply an alliance, formed by the everchanging agendas of the Wizarding World’s Upper crust and maintained only for the advantages that they could potentially bring.

 

As a member of the Sacred Twenty Eight – the most influential pureblood families of the Wizarding World – the Sugawara’s had practically been Wizarding Royalty, and most people wanted to be his friend because of it. Koushi saw no problems with the large circle of people who’d been nice to him for no reason; posturing themselves and vying for his attention, not since he hadn’t for a second believed that the Sugawara name would lose its prestige.

 

But then the fabled war of their ancestors reached their shores and suddenly, people started distancing themselves.

 

There were no more favours or people going out of their way to say hello, not after his father had been thrown in prison in his fifth year. And then, with the rise of the Dark Lord, it escalated into staring along the hallways and whispers along corridors; even the oddly silent common room that had once been his home.

 

Koushi could have dealt with it, had it just been the speculation and segregation of unfamiliar faces, the slurs and abuse from close strangers. But that hadn’t been all.

 

Koushi had never asked for anything from them, hadn’t even been expecting much, but in his time of need, his _friends_ – the ones he’d thought were _real_ , who _truly cared about him_ – left him by the curb without a second glance.

 

Friendship really doesn’t mean much to him, anymore. Which is why he feels so intrigued by Sawamura’s insistency on forming one.

 

An idealistic part of him has always wondered what it would be like, to have friends who would stick by him, through thick and thin and everything else in between. To have friends who love you as you are and support you without wanting anything else – money, fame, influence – in return. It’s what his nursery books had talked of, after all, even if his brother had told him he was naïve and silly.

 

Koushi has always wanted real friends _. Like Sawamura’s_.

 

It had always puzzled him so, how Michimiya Yui; Mudblood, and Ikejiri Hayato; Blood traitor, could be such good friends to Sawamura even when they were tainted. Koushi could probably make sense of their loyalty to the Golden Boy, but he doesn’t understand how it could be recipocrated. They lacked any sort of standing whatsoever, yet Sawamura had been the same to them. Almost like what friends should be, according to Koushi’s Nursery Book.

 

_“Didn’t your friends help you when you needed them?”_ Sawamura had asked, with that infuriatingly genuine look on his face. As if swooping Koushi out of the sky had been nothing to him, as though he hadn’t even expected anything in return.

 

It dawned on Koushi, that night down in the pitch, when Sawamura had ‘saved’ him, that maybe, this is what having friends should be like – to have someone he can rely on, and to be relied on in turn. To not have to look over his shoulder all the time, because there’s already someone guarding his back.

 

To not have to worry that the one with the knife is actually the one he’d trusted in the first place.

 

Koushi lies awake the whole night just thinking about it, and he watches Sawamura put a stop to his useless tossing and turning and head down to the common room at around half past three. Koushi’s not seen him sleep since he’d arrived.

 

Without thinking, the grey-haired pureblood slips on his bedroom slippers and follows after.

 

“Do you ever sleep?” Koushi asks, purposely dragging his feet on the ground and faking a small yawn. He lifts an eyebrow at the befuddled look Sawamura sends his way and settles next to him on the only long couch in the common room. “Or are you really just _that_ scared of sleeping next to a known death eater?”

 

“Bugger off, Sugawara,” Sawamura rolls his eyes, yet takes Koushi’s peace offering. His words lack any real bite, and he seems more relieved than angry. “I already told you I don’t care about that.”

 

Koushi just hums, lacking any substantial retort. The heavy weight on his shoulders disappears with Sawamura’s casual reply, and the pureblood leans backwards with a slow exhale. He doesn’t want to show how much of an effect Sawamura truly has on him, especially since he doesn’t understand it himself, but he does actually feel comforted by Sawamura’s easy forgiveness of what happened earlier at the pitch.

 

It isn’t like Koushi to lose control of himself.

 

“Hey, Sugawara,” Sawamura says, and Koushi hums again. Sawamura sounds a little tentative, but Koushi can’t judge his facial expressions since his eyes are closed. “Can you call me by my first name?”

 

Koushi’s eyes flutter open at that, and he squints a bit at the sudden brightness.

 

“Well, it’s not like you have to, or anything, I just thought,” Sawamura struggles, eyebrows creasing together in distress. “Calling me Sawamura just seems really stiff and formal, you know? I don’t understand much of your sort of Wizarding culture and I don’t want to be rude, so it’s totally okay if you don’t want to. It’s just, everyone calls me by my first name, except for the professors, and ‘Sawamura’ is such a mouthful, don’t you think? I don’t want to assume, since you didn’t really want to be friends or anything, but-”

 

“Daichi,” Koushi says, the word sitting comfortably in his mouth. It’s far from familiar, but not unpleasant. Next to him, Sawamura freezes up, and Koushi has to forcibly push down the quirks at the corners of his mouth. “It’s a little weird after calling you differently for seven years, but I can live with it if it’ll shut you up.”

 

Beside him, Sawamura scoffs lightly, his cheeks dusted with a tinge of red. “You’re such an arse.”

 

The dark-haired boy pauses again, as though waiting for Koushi to say something. The latter only stares back at him, wondering what Sawamura – or rather, Daichi – wants him to say. It’s a really off-putting experience, to have had years of pureblood ettiquette ingrained in him, and yet have all of that knowledge be rendered useless by one half-blood boy.

 

Daichi coughs awkwardly to break the silence. “Can I? Call you Koushi? It’s only fair, since you actually care to remember my first name now.”

 

Koushi looks down, into his lap, as he feels the wrinkles forming between his brows.

 

When he’d been a child, still small enough to sit next to his mother in one of their lounging chairs, yet too large to still fit on her lap, he’d asked her what his name meant.

 

“Your father and I thought long and hard about your name. Koushi means ‘support’. Do you know why?” His mother had laughed gently, like wind chimes on a breezy spring day. When Koushi shook his head, she simply smiled and pointed him at his older brother. Kiyoshi had been riding on his broom; flying around the rolling hills that are the back garden of the Sugawara Estate. “Your brother is our oldest child, and, in time, he will be responsible for carrying on the Sugawara line. When that time comes, we hope that you’ll do everything you can to help him. That’s why we named you Koushi.”

 

Everything Koushi had been brought up to be is for Kiyoshi. His _entire existence_ is for Kiyoshi.

 

Koushi hadn’t really minded it, at the start, since his mother loved them both equally. He hadn’t minded that most of the pressure of being a Sugawara had been absorbed by his elder brother, and he didn’t mind having to support Kiyoshi for the rest of his life because, to him, his elder brother had been the only one worth following.

 

It all changed when the Dark Lord returned, and his brother became a stranger Koushi couldn’t, for the life of him, recognize. His name is something like a condemnation, now, a reminder of all his sins. A far cry from what his parents had intended it to be.

 

Koushi _hates_ his name.

 

“Suga. Call me Suga. If it’s more convenient for you.” Koushi swallows, scratching at the dark, almost black mark on his inner forearm. Daichi has to squash the look of disappointment that surfaces on his features, and Koushi ignores the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s nothing personal, Sawa- Daichi. I just don’t particularly like my name.”

 

The other boy nods, this time significantly happier than before, and Koushi can’t help but sigh internally.

 

Out of everyone in the Wizarding World, he’d just had to go and open up – a little, but a start is _something_ – to this obvious, brash gryffindor who’d… actually, honestly, saved his life just a few hours before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
